


DyE Fantasy ~ Phan

by Let_bijohns_be_bi_johns



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Dan Howell - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phan, Phil Lester - Fandom
Genre: DyE fantasy, Gen, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Let_bijohns_be_bi_johns/pseuds/Let_bijohns_be_bi_johns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan can't sleep and the surreal silence of the nights in London inspire him to show his best friend Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DyE Fantasy ~ Phan

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by the song Fantasy by DyE and it was 2am

The walls so high and you won't feel  
The moon is always spying on your fears  
I make it to the golden gate and fail  
So then you throw your fantasy away to fade

Slowly the moon had reached a point in its orbit, so I could see it through my window. It was beautiful, I wanted to wake Phil, show him. Slowly sitting up, the gaps of light from my blinds making my room glow with the occasional darkened line. It was eerie in the same way it was beautiful, London was usually loud and busy, but tonight that had all ceased. Although the world had stood still to watch the white orb glow in the black night sky.

Oh and I take, take it in vain  
So I fake, fake it again

I sit on the edge of the bed and just look at the sky, no stars, no plains, no clouds, just the moon. It was so bright that non of the orange street lights where on, the light from the moon untainted on the rooftops and roads of London, the occasional tree lit up by the light bouncing off Luna.

To Tokyo network stocks I stream  
All of my wasted dreams on the screen

I take my phone and take a picture, sending it to Phil 'come see' I captioned the picture. The odd sound of a car going past was the only sound other than my own breathing... And Phil snoring softly in the room over. It was relaxing, I was almost dropping off on the end of the bed. 

Oh and I take, take it in vain  
So I fake, fake it again

Phil had woken and slowly trudged from his room, the sound of his feet scuffling on the carpet as he walked through, turning the fan on as he went, sitting beside me, his head resting on my shoulder as he looked at the night sky with me, our breathing muffled out by the steady sound of the fan, which was like a spell that lulled me easily into sleep.

Could I not take it in vain? Oh, could I not fake it again?  
Can't I not take it in pain? Oh, can't I not fake it again?

I'm woken early the next morning, lying with my head on the same pillow as Phil, who was fast asleep. The fan was still working away in the corner, smiling softly I pull the soft blanket up a bit, shifting and realising we're on the floor. The room is orange and red, the sound of cars out side lazily driving by in the early morning traffic.

I've sent my heart away, like heroes in the rain

I lie awake, listening to the soothing sounds of the fan and the slowly-waking-London surrounding me as the oranges and reds lightened into soft pinks and apricots until the day light restored. London in full swing morning routine, loud and rowdy.  
Phil slowly woke, smiling softly at me, his black hair messy, his blue eyes light and cheerful "Thanks for waking me" he murmured quietly.


End file.
